by Chris Fabry
“And I wanted you to know there’s going to be a little surprise, too.”
“Surprise?”
Stan chuckled. “See you in Boston, Jed.”
CHAPTER 26
SHELBY BALE sat with one of her best friends backstage at the venue in Boston. It was their first opportunity to open for Jed and the excitement level was high.
Vivian Lee played the stand-up bass in Shelby’s band, and she shared Shelby’s zest for life and living on the edge. There wasn’t much they hadn’t tried together. There were pills Vivian had introduced Shelby to and there were plenty of substances that Shelby had given Vivian. Nothing that debilitated them or kept them from performing, of course. And in some ways, the things they drank and took enhanced their energy onstage.
“I’ve just figured it out,” Vivian said, downing the last drink of Scotch from her glass. “This is not about us breaking free from Barry or playing bigger venues. This is about Jed King.”
Shelby laughed. “How do you come up with these conspiracy theories?”
“I saw you looking at the poster outside. Shelby, he’s a married man. This is a Christian band. I mean, they play some crossover stuff, but the guy has a reputation.”
“So do I,” Shelby said.
“You’re going to do this, aren’t you?”
“I’m following my heart,” Shelby said. “I’m letting my passions carry me wherever they will. He doesn’t have to respond.”
Vivian raised her eyebrows and nodded toward the hallway. “Your passions just walked by in tight jeans and cowboy boots.”
“He’s here?” Shelby said.
“Whoa, you should see your face right now.”
Shelby checked in the mirror, then turned to Vivian and smiled devilishly. “Okay, I’m going to do it.” She raised a fist and Vivian winked.
Jed turned as she walked to his dressing room door. He was even more handsome in person than he was in his press photos and videos. He was taller than she thought, not a giant, just a pleasing height, and his beard had grown fuller than the last photo she had seen. He had that chiseled look of a model on romance books, but she knew there was more to him than his looks.
She pulled out a cigarette and caught his eye. He approached the door and put his hand on it as if he were protecting his domain.
“Hi,” she said in her little-girl voice. As soon as she heard herself, she regretted saying anything before he did.
“Can I help you?” His tone wasn’t gracious. He seemed annoyed more than anything, which took her aback.
She put the cigarette in her mouth and pulled out her lighter. “Well, you actually already have, Jed. I just, um . . . I . . .” She flicked the lighter and saw him staring at the flame. In a gesture of goodwill she handed the cigarette to him and he took it before she held out the lighter for him. But instead of smoking it, he tried to blow out the lighter.
“I don’t smoke,” he said without smiling. “And I definitely don’t sleep with groupies. So—”
She couldn’t stifle the laugh, throwing her head back in both shock and amusement at his words. When she composed herself, she said, “I heard you were really religious—”
“I take it you’re not.”
“I’m spiritual.”
“Isn’t everybody.”
Shelby looked behind her, forming her next phrase, her next introduction. She wanted another chance, another shot at a first impression. “You just have no idea, do you?”
“About what?”
She lowered her voice and took a step closer to him. “You know, normally I would be really, really offended. But you are just so cute. And now I get to have a secret and that’s always fun, isn’t it?”
She stared into his eyes, into those deep pools that had come up with some amazing songs. And she was sure that there were more inside that heart of his. Better songs. Songs that went deeper than he could ever imagine.
He shook his head and pushed her backward. “Okay. It’s good to meet you, whatever your name is—this whole thing is great.”
She protested but he closed the door before she could say anything else. And that was Shelby’s first meeting with Jed King.
Later, when the applause crescendoed for the band, Vivian yelled, “Did you meet him?”
Shelby nodded and smiled. “It didn’t go exactly as planned. He kind of shut the door on me. Thought I was a groupie.”
“You are, in a way.”
“He had no idea who I was.”
Vivian nodded toward the shadows behind the stage as Jed walked up behind his manager. The drums began the next song and the crowd responded to the screaming introduction of “Confetti.”
“Show him who you are,” Vivian said.
Shelby sang with her usual flair and abandon and her fiddle was on fire—Charlie Daniels had nothing on her tonight. The devil could go on down to Georgia; Shelby had come to Boston and to Jed King.
“Take me, shake me,
And break me into two
Million little pieces
Spread all over you
“I wanna fly up to the roof
And come down when I’m ready
I want my head down to my toes
To feel like confetti.”
After their opening set, Shelby looked for Jed to explain and tell him it was okay that he assumed she was a tramp. But Stan headed her off and pulled her behind the stage, speaking over the noise in the hall.
“You give me that kind of energy, that kind of performance every night, and Jed will be opening for you.”
She hugged Stan and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s sweet of you to say, but I have no designs on showing Jed up. I just want to be the best opening act he’s ever had.”
CHAPTER 27
ROSE WAS BUSY with Ray, trying to contain his energy, which was a full-time job. She loved the different stages he’d been through, not counting them in years but in things that fascinated him. She had taken pictures of him during his “feet” stage when he’d grab them and hang on. Next came the “mobile” stage and then the toddler months when he focused on standing and wobbling to her before he fell. He transitioned from an obsession with dinosaurs—books, plastic figures, stuffed dinosaurs, dinosaur movies—to the drums. Now he couldn’t get enough of playing his father’s music on a CD and whaling on the drum set Jed had bought him at one of those warehouse club stores. Jed was rarely home, so it was easy for him—he didn’t have to deal with the noise. But Rose was glad for the outlet for Ray, and some of the things he said, some of the ways he mangled the lyrics, were just too cute. She texted Jed some phrases he’d said and recorded them on video to play for him. Finally she had collected so many that she started writing them down in Ray’s baby book.
Before the vacation, they had fallen into a pattern of Jed being home for a few days and then being gone for two weeks, and it was honestly becoming harder having Jed home. He didn’t respect the routine she had given their son. Jed wanted him to stay up and play, wanted to wake him after he’d gone to sleep—which was great, she loved seeing Jed have fun with Ray, but he didn’t seem able to understand the consequences the next day when a sleepy little boy would become cranky because he hadn’t gotten enough rest. It was a small price to pay to see the two of them bond over music or games, but Rose began to see Jed’s presence as a competition of sorts. Jed would bring Ray candy from the road or the airport where he’d been the night before, while she was trying hard not to reward Ray with food or ruin his diet with a constant barrage of jelly beans and Tootsie Rolls. Once when Jed had taken Ray to a movie, her son had thrown up as soon as he returned and she looked in horror at the red stain on the hardwood.
“He ate a bag of Twizzlers,” Jed had said. “I couldn’t stop him.”
This was exactly the kind of choice a parent had to make for a child, she thought. You didn’t buy a big bag of licorice and turn a four-year-old loose. You had to be the one to limit. But she had to give Jed points for being interested in his son. Som
e dads didn’t change diapers, didn’t want to be bothered with the day-to-day stuff of fathering, and Jed seemed to revel in it.
Jed had played Boston the night before and Rose checked her phone in the morning but there was nothing from him. She heard a door slam outside but didn’t think much about it until Jed walked in with his overnight bag and a bouquet of flowers. Rose smiled as Ray jumped into his father’s arms.
“This is a nice surprise. Did a show get canceled?”
“No, I wish. I fly out tomorrow morning, actually. I’m sorry. I just had to come home, you know?”
Ray looked into Jed’s eyes, tried to get him to break his stare with Rose, and finally Jed looked at him.
“Do you wanna be in my band?” Ray said.
Jed gave him that exaggerated face of a doting father. “That’s exactly what I want to do. It’s why I came home. I’ll tell you what, you go upstairs and get that ready, all right?”
Jed put Ray down and he ran up the stairs with abandon as if he’d just won the daddy lottery.
Jed looked tired, but there was something in his eyes as he held out the bouquet to Rose. There was always something in his eyes when he came home.
“These are for you,” he said, handing her the pink roses and drawing closer.
“Thank you. Is everything all right?”
Jed kissed her ear and embraced her. “Yeah. I just wanted to be with my wife, you know?”
She did know, but she didn’t want to say anything negative about it. She fought the feeling, pushed it down, and playfully looked at him, smiling. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
“Nap time?” he said.
That confirmed it for her, that he had come home with one thing on his mind. His need. His desire. And again she pushed the thought down because she was glad he desired her. She was glad he had eyes for her. And she wanted to be there, but what about her needs?
She laughed, covering the thoughts swirling in her head. “No, I’m afraid we’ve outgrown nap time. I miss it. I’m exhausted.” He should have remembered that from the trip to the beach. She looked at him, wanting to tell him everything in her heart with her eyes, wanting him to see through to her soul. “Tonight,” she said gently. “I promise.”
He smiled and pointed a finger at her. “Tonight. I’m gonna hold you to that.”
She rooted around for a vase for the roses and tried to focus on him, his life, his traveling. “You couldn’t hold out another couple of weeks, huh?”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up and could see it in his eyes. Stan had extended the tour.
“How long this time?”
“Three months.” He said it like he regretted the whole thing and was waiting for her to say it was all right, she understood. But Rose couldn’t say it. And something deep inside began to swirl, along with the feelings she’d already stuffed.
“Stan added Shelby Bale to the tour.” He said it like she ought to know who that was.
“Who?”
He answered, looking at the floor as if it were something he had practiced so he could get it right. So she wouldn’t be mad. Like a little boy who had been caught playing the drums too loudly.
“She’s just this singer with a cult following. I get her fans, she gets my fans, and we book a lot more shows and make a lot more money.”
That stopped her. She looked at him and caught his eyes. “Do you need more money? Or fans?”
“It’s not just that, Rose.” His voice was soft and comforting, reassuring, but his body language spoke something different. The you-don’t-understand-any-of-this posture, which only made her back stiffen.
“Then what?” she said, back to work again, picking up some of Ray’s toys and putting them in the toy basket. LEGOs and stuffed animals and figurines that wound up in the oddest places.
“I’m helping people. I know it sounds stupid, but in my own way, I am.”
She kept working, kept picking up, kept her hands busy.
“Look, I get e-mails and people coming up to me saying I’m helping their life make sense,” he said. “That they were about to give up and they heard one of my songs.”
And how about my life? she thought. How about making my life make sense? How about us being a team together instead of two people growing apart?
“People are looking for stuff, Rose,” he continued, his voice pleading now. “Meaning. Hope. God.”
That last one sent her over the edge, though she tried not to show it. He was going to use God to justify his choices? He was going to throw himself into his work and pit her against God?
“If I don’t tell them, they’re not going to hear it,” he said, concluding his sales job. Like she was supposed to buy his vacuum cleaner or supplements or newfangled food processor.
She stopped and looked at him. “Jed, your biggest fan is upstairs, and he needs you a lot more than God does.”
It sounded almost blasphemous coming out of her mouth, but it was true. This wasn’t about serving God or his family. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.
“Bring him,” Jed said quickly like he’d been waiting for this response. “And come with me.”
“So he can sleep on buses and jets, getting dragged from hotel to hotel? What kind of life is that?”
“It’s not a life, Rose. I’m talking about three months.” His tone was dismissive, and if she had been pushed off the edge, now she was gaining momentum for the plunge.
“Which will become a year because you won’t have a reason to tell Stan no.” She was surprised by the speed with which she came up with the argument and threw it at him. And then she added the coup de grâce. “You’ll have me to play groupie.”
Now it was Jed’s turn to get his back up. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Feels like you don’t come home for me anymore. It’s like you come home for . . .”
Sex. She wanted to say sex. But she didn’t have to. What had been such a beautiful thing between the two of them had slowly become an obligation for her. And for him it was like oxygen. It was why he was back with roses in his hand.
“Let me fix that,” he said. He closed the distance between them and his voice grew higher. “Please, I’m trying to fix that. If you come with me, I’d see you every day.”
And what does that mean? she thought.
“I’d see Ray every day. We’d spend time together. Please.”
So he could play some portable drums with Ray during the day and play with her after the show. No wonder she felt like a toy.
“It’s not just Ray, Jed.”
As soon as she said it, she saw the recognition on his face.
“What?” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Your dad has a dead bear in his living room, Rose. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine. Please.”
She couldn’t smile, couldn’t match his playfulness. What she was saying was serious. “No. He’s not doing well, Jed.”
He looked at her, his eyes searching for some kind of bridge over the gulf between their hearts.
Ray bounced back into the room clutching two drumsticks and ready to jam. “Daddy, do you want to be in my band now?”
Jed looked from Ray to Rose. He seemed caught between the two of them. Or maybe caught between something else, she couldn’t tell.
“I’m sorry,” she said. It was the best she could do.
He touched her shoulder as a gesture of goodwill, as a peace offering. A promise that they would get together in some demilitarized zone later on and hash the problem out and come to a satisfying answer. Jed was the eternal optimist, thinking everything would be all right given enough time and smiles and roses.
“Yeah, buddy,” he said to Ray. “Come on. Let’s go.”
And the two were off, upstairs to their world of guitar and drum solos. After drums there was a board game Ray liked to play. And after that, dinner that Rose prepared. Then Jed let Ray pick out his favorite movie and they watched it from the floor, sitting together with her dozing on the couch
. He took Ray upstairs and with the door open, she could hear Jed reading from Ray’s children’s Bible. He was on the story of Solomon, and Ray kept asking questions about all the mistakes that Solomon made and why he chose against God.
“What did he do?”
“He married a lot of women and they convinced him to do some bad things.”
“Like what?”
“Worship golden statues and that kind of thing.”
“How many was he supposed to marry?”
“Just one,” Jed said. “After that, there’s always trouble.”
“I want to marry Mom,” Ray said.
Rose stifled a laugh and closed her eyes to listen.
“There’s rules about that in the Bible too.”
“I can’t marry Mom?”
“No, she’s my wife.”
“But you don’t live here.”
Jed paused for a moment and Rose listened closely.
“Yes, I do. I have to be gone for work for a long time, but then I get to stay home. That’s coming soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
The conversation continued but Rose drifted off, her sleep sweet on the couch. There was something about falling asleep here that reminded her of her childhood. At the end of her mother’s life, Rose would get out of bed and tiptoe downstairs to where she slept, in a bed set up in the living room. Rose would bring a blanket and a pillow and sleep on the couch across from her, sometimes holding her hand.
The next thing she heard was Jed’s voice saying, “Rose? Rose?”
She opened her eyes, exhausted, the full weight of the day on her eyelids. It was like lifting fifty-pound dumbbells just getting them open.
“Ray’s asleep,” he said expectantly, that hungry-tiger look in his eyes.
“I fell asleep,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, you did,” he laughed.
She couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer, so she let them fall and drifted off, hearing him repeat her name in the distance.
She felt the cover being pulled up around her shoulders and his kiss on her hair. And then she was gone, dreaming of walking along a stream with Jed, skipping rocks and laughing. When she looked up, the stream had turned into a rushing river and Jed was somehow on the other side of the river, standing with his arms crossed, staring at her. That was all she remembered when she awoke, the haunting sight of Jed alone and so far away.
